Snippets
by kouw
Summary: Quick and dirty, un-betaed little snippets from everyone Downstairs based on the tiny little spoilers we've been given for S6 so far
1. Elsie

**A/N:** Hey everyone! I am breaking (slowly) out of my hiatus with these tiny little three hundred word snippets.  
I hope you'll let me know what you think of them.

* * *

The hem of her dress has come loose. She could feel it fall as she ascended the stairs to Lady Grantham's bedroom. For a moment she thought: would it matter if I walked around like this all day? Would there be anyone to notice? But the thought vanished like smoke.

Sitting on the stool in front of Lady Grantham's vanity, she takes the scissors from her chatelaine and cuts away the long thread that is unravelling her dress. The air is cool even though it is a hot summer's day. She looks up and through the windows. The park is bursting with the lushness of summer; the lawn is brilliantly green and the leaves of the birch trees glitter in the afternoon sun.

She retrieves a small sewing kit from her pocket and pulls out needle and thread. She snips the black cotton sharply and reminds herself that after her wedding she'll not be required to wear black. She can put on whatever she pleases. For a moment she drifts away on dreams of green and blue and tweed. Anna is making her a special gift that she's been very tight-lipped about, but Elsie's figured it out nonetheless.

You don't succeed at being housekeeper at a great estate like Downton if you don't notice _everything_.

She can hear a bell being rung in the Library and she quickly fixes her dress. The green baize door opens and closes. Quick feet hurry up the stairs (but never run.) Elsie pricks her finger and she watches a droplet of blood appear upon the ridges of her fingerprint. It doesn't hurt. It stings a bit.

Like leaving Downton will sting a bit; after all it has been her home for decades. Having Mr Carson by her side will soothe that, she hopes.

Her dress is ready. She gets up from the stool, pushes it back under the vanity.

It's time to go back to work.


	2. Thomas

A/N: thank you so much for your warm welcome back you're awesome.

* * *

It's a proper job and he is handsomely paid. There are clean sheets every week, and a good meal twice a day. The splendour and excitement of London - pulling off parties and balls and tea's. Listening to them talk about art galleries and plays.

Always living through them in Yorkshire but one afternoon a week he can be part of it when they're in London. Windows full of perfectly made leather gloves, bookstores harbouring illicit literature, bakeries selling french pastries. There's excitement in the air.

The hum of the city around him makes it easier to be inside. He serves at dinner perfectly, pours glass after glass of expensive wine without spilling a drop. Lady Edith speaks about the Bloomsbury group and he knows how to get to that part of the city. Lady Mary comes home from a gruelling day of shopping with a new hat - which he has seen in a shop window when he was on his way to the National Gallery.

The constant buzzing of the city soothes him. He feels more himself. Less picked upon. Respected. Setting one foot on the train to Yorkshire already makes his stomach ache with instant homesickness. He is a Yorkshire lad, but his heart isn't in the Dales.

Back in Downton he feels cold and cramped. The rain never stops pouring. His room in the attic is frigid. The old goat bellows at him. He dreams of late night cabaret and listening to jazz in a dingy basement. He thinks about his fingers, greasy from the fish and chips he'd been eating out of a newspaper, wrapped around a glass of gin.

One day he overhears Lord Grantham talking to the old goat. What do we need an underbutler for?

Being sacked is constantly on his mind. He's been doing well, he'll be given excellent references and a handsome pay-off. Besides: he knows enough about many visitors to Downton that he'll probably never have to work again. Of course he'll have to leave his comfortable home, but he'll not miss it much.

He won't miss it much at all.


	3. Anna

**A/N:** Thank you everybody! Today it's Anna's turn. Please let me know what you think.

* * *

She checks the mirror to see if her hair is tidy.

Her cheeks have filled out a little. She smiles. A careful smile that only just reaches her eyes. She's made it through another night. She doesn't remember her dreams. Which she takes as a good sign. Like the gentle growling of her stomach.

Hunger was the last of her senses to return after…

After.

Today is just another ordinary day and she is glad of it. Glad to be dressing Lady Mary in an hour or so. Happy to run a brush through the dark hair. Pleased to be sewing back beads onto dresses and to carefully clean hats.

Perhaps it's not exciting, but it's steady. She can depend on every next step. On kind words of encouragement. On a sense of home and belonging. Even when she was locked up, she remembered Downton's routines. The sound of Mrs Hughes's shoes echoing against the walls as she made her rounds, the tinkling noise of Daisy whipping up cream by hand and the whirring of the electric mixer.

She missed it. Every little bit of the constantly filled days. Knowing today what will happen tomorrow, but breathing the Yorkshire air without restriction. Tasks and duties every day the same, but the care and joy they shared downstairs making the work seem light.

The thought of owning a little inn and watching their family grow isn't so appealing anymore.

She checks the clock. Almost time to go. She calls upstairs to her husband and waits for his response. His limp is more pronounced - she can hear it as he walks around in their bedroom. He takes longer to come down the stairs.

She asks him if he is ready to go and he nods. He is looking serious, but brighter. More at ease. Not like he looked before the war, but maybe he'll get close one day. She watches herself in the mirror once more and runs her hands over her hips. She looks softer and becoming.

Together they leave the cottage and start their recurring trek to the estate. Step by step. There's no rush. The cloud of imminent doom is slowly dissipating, but she daren't breathe freely yet.

But it won't be long now.


	4. Joseph

**A/N:** Thank you everyone for your kind words and encouragement. Today it's someone's turn I have never even tried to write before and I don't know if I did a good job at all. So don't hesitate to let me know.

* * *

Nothing comes to him easily, he thinks, but there are worse things. What's important in life is to be kind and to remember other's kindnesses. Mr Bates lending him the money in his time of strife. Mrs Hughes requesting Mr Carson would take him on as footman. Of course it's a step back. Of course it's not what he's trained for. But he is grateful. He doesn't go hungry and he doesn't get so dirty with grime he cannot get clean again.

And there's Phyllis. With her soft eyes and her remarkable skills and a gentle soul as he's never encountered. He's not felt the need to protect anyone before and he has never been made to feel like it matters before. They get on well. Very well.

Their conversations are easy, their silences comfortable. They drink tea and play boardgames and help Daisy with her course work. He hasn't much education, but he tries. Perhaps he is learning too.

He worries for his job. He's heard Lord Grantham speak of dragging Downton into the twentieth century. Everybody knows what that means:

They will all be standing outside on the gravel, their extra month's wages in an envelope in one hand, a suitcase in the other and then what will they do?

The workforce these days is flooded with skilled young men and all he can do is wait at table and announce guests. He can dig ditches, but it doesn't pay enough to pay much more than the rent. It's not enough. Not enough to build upon.

He turns over in his narrow bed and pulls his blankets tighter. He prays they'll be spared. He prays for a miracle. When he finally falls asleep it's so deep into the night, the silence is all-encompassing. He dreams of a cottage and new woollen socks and of Phyllis by a low table pouring tea and slicing cake.

The knock on his door comes too early and he wakes disillusioned.

Still a footman.

Still only himself.


	5. Beryl

**A/N:** Thank you so much for your kind reviews so far! I am enjoying giving every person downstairs a little snippet - so if your favourite has not come up yet: don't worry! Everyone who is going to be in S6 will have a chapter! Today it's our favourite cook's turn. Don't hesitate to review (again!)

* * *

 **In between the frigidaire taking up a buzzing space in her kitchen and Elsie Hughes going off to marry the Butler in a few weeks, there isn't much to keep her in the dark, hot kitchen, cooking seven meals a day. She's been contemplating a good moment to leave.**

The most logical choice is in the new year to help Daisy through Christmas and the New Year's parties. She can't leave that dozy girl to do that on her own.

Though of course Daisy would have things well in hand. She is being wasted in this basement kitchen. She could teach home economics or take over the farm.

Sometimes she thinks about William. How she almost forced that girl to marry him. Out of pity. A deathbed wedding... Even Mr Carson had teared up a bit at the sight.

She rubs at her eyes. They're tired - like she is - from the lack of light and the long day she's had. She's been giving Daisy more responsibility lately. So she can catch more sleep. Soak her weary bones in a warm bath.

Her new house doesn't have indoor plumbing yet, but it shouldn't take more than two weeks for that to be put in according to Mr Molesley who's been regaling the details of the renovation of his father's cottage.

She's been making lists of things she'll need. Towels and plates and a bed. It reminds her of her sisters leaving home with 'six of each'. Her sisters moved out into the world, living their own lives. She'd been a little girl then.

There wasn't place for a dumpy young girl when her parents passed. Service or the streets had been her choices. An eleven-year-old scullery maid worked her soft little hands into calloused little paws.

She finishes her cup of tea and puts it in the sink. She'll rinse it out in the morning. There's nothing very exciting on the menu tomorrow. A quiet, ordinary day. Nothing to get herself in a state for.


	6. John

**A/N:** Thank you all so much for reviewing (please don't stop!), I am so happy you are enjoying these snippets! We're halfway and today it's John Bates in the early morning.

* * *

It's easier to ignore his aching leg in summer, after they've returned from London. When he sleeps in his own bed with his wife curled around him. When the air is soft and light and not bogged down with soot and noise. He is finding his way to a tentative happiness here in the cottage. Anna is calmer, happier than she was before. She is putting on a bit of weight; the sun is putting roses in her cheeks. Her quick footsteps don't sound so skittish anymore.

His footsteps are starting to sound more and more uneven.

There are mornings he can hardly face the stairs in their cottage and more days that the stairs of Downton are too much. But he manages. He knows how to take the strain off his bad leg and he knows the routine of the house so well now, he makes it work for him.

He wonders if that seaside inn they once dreamed about would still be the right decision. He worries he might be more of a burden than a help to Anna. Like her he sometimes wakes in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, his throat raw. Images from his dreams still flashing before him.

A bajonet to clean and mount.  
Tripping over the dead body of a black child.  
Sawdust on a pub floor and a broken glass in his hand.  
Fleas on a dark blue woolen blanket.

Bruises on his wife's face.

She calls from downstairs. She's been up and about for a while, he must hurry now. His clothes are ready on the chair in the corner of the bedroom; she neatly presses his trousers and irons his shirts. He washes quickly by the jug and bowl, dries himself. Dresses with care. Combs his hair. Makes himself as presentable as is possible with this old carcass he has at his disposal.

He slowly gets down the stairs to the hall where Anna waits for him, smiling. Tonight he'll have to gently broach the subject of the inn to her.

He hopes she'll still be smiling then.


	7. Andy

**A/N:** Guys, thank you so much for your lovely reviews! I was a bit frightened of writing Mr Bates but I am glad you thought he was (mostly) in character. Today it's someone's turn whose temperament is largely unknown still - I expect we'll learn more about him this coming series. Please let me know what you think!

* * *

Half an hour ago he stood in the corner of the Library, waiting to be told to pour more brandy when he accidentally dropped a cheese puff and now here he is, polishing crystal. Most likely he's not even half done yet. It's really quiet downstairs. Lady Mary and his Lordship have gone up, so both Anna and Mr Bates have gone home and Miss Baxter said goodnight to Mr Molesley about five minutes after he'd come down from clearing away the dirty glasses and ashtrays.

There's only the rumble of Mr Carson's voice coming from Mrs Hughes's parlour.

It's alright for some, he thinks. Drinking leftover wine and eating the few cheese puffs that nobody wanted. He would have liked to taste one. He would like to be sitting down, maybe have a chat with Mr Barrow.

Mr Barrow has been teaching him all sorts. How to set the table the quickest, how to make shoes look like they have been polished and how to make the most of an afternoon off. Maybe not the nicest things to learn, but useful. Mr Carson is trying to make him see the difference between spoons and glasses. He's been rather frazzled lately, Mr Carson. Grumpy.

Andy sure as hell isn't going to be in service until he is too old to enjoy himself. There's a new factory opening and they are looking for strong healthy lads. All that lugging trunks around and going up and down the stairs a hundred times a day makes sure of that, so he'll have the advantage. Maybe if he plays his cards right, he can become foreman.

It would mean more money and steady hours. He would have time to court a nice girl. He doesn't want to wait until he retires to finally start his life.

"Andrew, you best tidy up and go to bed."

He turns around. It's Mrs Hughes.

"Mr Carson said to wait until he said I could.."

"Don't worry about Mr Carson. It's late and you've got an early start."

He nods.

"Thank you, Mrs Hughes," he says and she gives him a smile.

A factory would be very loud, he thinks. And probably lonely at first, and utterly filthy.

Maybe he should just bide his time, like Mr Barrow says.


	8. Daisy

**A/N:** Thank you so much for your encouragement, I really appreciate it. Today it's my precious cinnamon roll's turn. I love her so much, but never really tried to write her before, so this was extra fun! I hope you will enjoy it too and that you'll leave me a review!

* * *

Mrs Patmore has gone to bed and she is drinking a last cup of tea before going up too. It's late - later than usual. There was a big dinner party and Mrs Patmore let her handle it all on her own. She does that more these days. It's worrying.

She feels being pulled this way and that and it's very distracting. She can make gougeres with one hand tied behind her back, but they almost failed yesterday because she was thinking about poor Mr Mason losing the farm like that.

It's not fair how they push out tenant farmers like that. Even prospering ones like Mr Mason's, who always turned a good profit. Farming is hard work and he only has the farmhands he hires during the different seasons on the farm: lambing, sowing and planting, harvesting. She's gone up year after year to help with the canning.

Perhaps she should have left Downton and gone to live with Mr Mason and help him. There must have been letters coming to let him know he was going to be evicted.

But she didn't want to leave Mrs Patmore or the kitchen. She was finally given some responsibility and Mrs Patmore paid for the lessons with Miss Bunting. Mr Molesley and Miss Baxter kept encouraging her and in the end even Mr Carson did. Mrs Hughes was probably behind that; she was the most adamant she worked hard, to make something more of herself than just a kitchen maid.

Now there is a third person who steals away her concentration. She doesn't remember when it happened, but it's all very confusing, because she did love William but she had been just a child and this… this is _different_.

She can't confide in Mr Mason for obvious reasons and she cannot tell Mrs Patmore either.

She wouldn't understand.

She hardly understands it herself.

She puts her cup in the sink. It's much too late be pondering about all these things. Best go to bed: she has an early start baking. She climbs the stairs towards her small room that she no longer shares with anyone.

But perhaps she will again. One day.


	9. Phyllis

**A/N:** Thank you all so much! Baxter-day is a good day, because Baxter is the most optimistic of the downstairs bunch in this series. Please let me know what you think!

* * *

Running a loose hem through her sewing machine on a quiet afternoon is one of her favourite things. When some of the junior staff have their half-days and the Servants' Hall is empty for long stretches of time and you can hear Mrs Patmore and Daisy work on the upstairs meals. When there's the comforting sound of Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes talking in her sitting room (the door is always half-open these days and it makes her smile.)

The whirring of her machine helps her think. Happy thoughts these days - there is no need to fear Thomas spilling the beans (not now she has her own little secret to keep.) Mrs Hughes never once mentioned her past and nor has her Ladyship.

Joseph would never tell. She trusts him with her secret.

With her life.

She can't compare Joseph to… well. Him.. It's not exciting or thrilling; there are no empty promises or the sense of being swept off her feet. Just the feeling of being safe. He cares for her and if Downton is indeed being pushed into more modern times, perhaps it will follow the precedent set by the grand London houses where a married Butler and Housekeeper are seen as dependable and are much more favoured above a single man and woman.

But London is different.

The door of Mrs Hughes' sitting room swings further open. She watches Mrs Hughes straighten Mr Carson's tie in the door opening.

A mug of tea appears on the table next to her machine - it pulls her from her daydreaming.

"Thank you, Mr Molesley," she says and smiles.

He smiles back. Phyllis sighs happily.

Yes. She is looking forward to the future. She is sure that things can only get better.

She is certain of it.


	10. Charles

**A/N:** Thank you all (reviewers, guest reviewers, readers, Tumblrites. Friends!) for your warm welcome back. I really appreciate all your kind reviews and PM's so much - they mean the world to me. This is the final drabble in the Snippets-series: Charles Carson and it contains a spoiler (though at the moment of writing we have no confirmation on it). If you would prefer to remain spoiler-free, I advise you to click this final chapter away.

Thank you all, again. I really missed being part of the ficcing community during my hiatus. If there are things you feel I should read (and review) please drop me a line. Now. Lets get to that drabble, otherwise this A/N will be longer than the actual chapter…

* * *

He jerks awake from the sound of footsteps on the stairs towards the green baize door. His neck hurts. He glances at the clock: it's going on ten o'clock. Mr Barrow will be overseeing the goings-on in the library (port and cigars for the men) and Mr Molesley will be serving coffee in the Drawing Room to the ladies. He has been giving both of them more responsibility. Mrs Hughes suggested it a few weeks ago, saying that they would have to learn to fend for themselves, especially now they would be leaving soon.

The thought fills him with joy and dread and he doesn't know which one outweighs the other.

Leaving Downton will be difficult. It's been the only home he's ever known. Of course he'll be _making_ a home for himself now, with Elsie. He wonders how long it will take for him to call her that - again. He remembers when she arrived: the new Head Housemaid. Attractive, purposeful, approachable.

He thinks about how she changed her name and her dresses. She replaced her cap with a chatelaine that announced her presence with it's melodic tinkling. He might miss that sound, but there will be others to take its place. He clears his throat at the thought of what his wife will sound like when he holds her close in the still of the night.

He hopes for both their sakes he'll be able to adjust to life away from service. He knows she will. There is enough to keep her occupied by the sound of the plans she relays to him every evening before the go up (to their separate bedrooms still, for now.) Church choir practice. Visits to the Bateses when the little stranger arrives. Going to see Becky as often as she can. Other things that make him feel like a much younger man (they don't speak of them, but they are part of their collective visions for their carefree years together and those thoughts were on both their minds when they went to pick out furniture for the house at Brouncker Road.)

No matter how Elsie intends to fill their days, he knows he will miss Downton. Grand dinner parties and the annual fete. Watching the Christmas tree being lit in the hall. The smell of crystal polish and the sound of creaking leather in the courtyard where a new footman breaks in a new pair of shoes. the routine of waking at 6:30 and knowing that his footmen and hallboys have already gotten dressed and ready for the day. Knowing that if the Dowager comes to call, they'll pull out all the stops to make sure she doesn't feel standards have dropped. Style and show. And purpose.

In their home their lives will be their own, finally and he'll have a love that surpasses his wildest dreams. But he knows a part of his heart will always be at Downton.

And that's just the way it is.


End file.
